A Meeting of Eagles
by Phantom Shadowwalker
Summary: Revamped, edited, and updated at last! Post LeRoux. Perhaps a woman like Jane Eyre would be a better match for Erik than Christine?
1. Prologue

A/N

First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the first time this story was posted. It was wonderful to read all those reviews, and many of your suggestions have been taken into account in this reposting. That doesn't mean that they always will be, but in this case I did find them very helpful. And this time this story will be updated! I will really try, to the best of my ability, not to let it hang for another two years!

Now, without further adue, on with the story!

Disclaimer

Do I have to put one of these?

Oh alright.

I'm not making any money from this story, so don't sue. I'm writing it purely for my own enjoyment and that of my readers. Also, any characters that you recognize are not mine. They belong to Gaston LeRoux and/or Andrew Lloyd Webber. Any original characters that you see however, are open season, as I don't believe in copyright.

Prologue

Erik took Christine's hand gently and placed the little gold ring in her palm.

"There." He said through his tears. "Take it for you, and him. I know you love the boy. Don't cry anymore."

Christine looked through her own tears at Erik who still knelt at her feet, where he had fallen, weeping, when she had allowed him to kiss her forehead unmasked. She looked at this being, this man whom she so little understood. She looked upon the man who loved her so much, who had been capable of so many horrors and yet of such beauty and such love. She looked at his hand supporting hers; at the little wedding ring in her palm.

"What do you mean?" she asked him softly.

"Christine" he breathed. "You have wept over me, with me. You have mingled your tears with mine. You have allowed me to kiss you. You have given me all the happiness the world can offer, more than I ever dared hope for. But I know you don't love me." This last, he said with no bitterness at all. "I know you love the Vicompte. I cannot force you to stay. Go and be happy. Marry him when you please and be happy."

It took a moment for Erik's meaning to register. When it did, Christine looked at him in sheer astonishment, barely comprehending. Not a few hours ago, he had been ready to kill her, Raoul and everyone in the opera house if she had refused to become his wife. Now he was letting her go? He was setting her free? To marry Raoul? Did that mean he would let Raoul free as well?

"Erik?" Christine breathed.

Erik rose then and went off into the darkness. Christine could not see where he went. During the time he was gone, she could not tell how long, it felt like hours, she began to feel alone and afraid. His words had been beautiful. But what if he changed his mind?

But then he reappeared, now leading Raoul who, as soon as he beheld Christine alive and alright, ran to her. They embraced, and gave each other their lips for the second time. When they had let each other go at last, Erik walked solemnly up to them and put Christine's hand in Raoul's.

"Go, and be happy." He said gently. Raoul stood dumfounded at first, just as Christine had done, not understanding. The monster who had nearly roasted him alive, then nearly drowned him and then locked him in a dark dungeon, had just brought him to Christine who was unharmed and was letting them go?

Christine herself had begun to weep silently again, for she understood now that Erik had meant it. His weren't just fancy words uttered in the extreme of passion and brief happiness. He was truly letting them go. When the realization of the fact became clear to Raoul, he grasped Christine's hand firmly and began to lead her, almost at a run, out of the catacombs. He still feared, as Christine had herself at first, that the Phantom would change his mind. But Christine broke away from him.

"wait" she said.

She walked back to Erik, who stood solemnly near the door of his home, and gently placed a kiss on his still unmasked forehead. Then she walked back to Raoul and let him lead her away. At first, what she had just done did not register to Erik. Then it did: her kiss, her understanding, her thanks, her forgiveness, and her good-bye.

As Christine hurried behind Raoul she wept. She wept for the man whom she had not seen for the incredible soul that he really was. to have suffered so much sorrow and pain, to have fallen so far into darkness, and yet to have overcome all that suffering to be turned from that evil to let them go, all for a kiss on the forehead and a few tears... She wept for the fact that she could not return the love of such a soul. She would pray for him. She had to. Such a soul was no monster and could not be beyond redemption. And she did pray for him.

As soon as she and Raoul reached the safety of her flat, Christine ran into her room, locked her door, took out her rosary and fell on her knees. She entreated the Holy Mother to intercede for him and to show him comfort. She entreated Christ to forgive and redeem him. But most of all, she entreated God that Erik might some day love again and this time that it might be a woman who could return his love. She prayed that there might be, out there somewhere, a woman who could give him the love he deserved, who could love him as she could not, and that God would guide Erik and that woman to one another. And somehow, she knew her prayer was heard, that all she need do was keep praying it.

After Christine had disappeared from sight, Erik listened to the sound of her and Raoul's footsteps fading into the distance. He held his composure until the sound died away. It was as long as he could hold it. When they were gone, for the first time since he was five years old, Erik wept. He broke down, and wept so hard that his sobs could not even be given voice. As he wept, the words, felt rather than heard, passed through his soul: "You have acquitted yourself well. Your tears have been heard and counted. This is not all there is in store for you." But the words gave him no comfort then. Christine was gone and, though he was quite sure that she at last understood at least a little, she did not love him.


	2. Talents She Didn't Know She Had

Chapter 1

Talents She Didn't Know She Had

Ten years later.

Jane hauled her carpetbag up the front steps of the house which, though extremely modest by the normal standards of the aristocracy, was still very impressive to her. Even the house of her Uncle who, though not titled, was nevertheless high-born gentry, was smaller than this expansive dwelling. She rang the bell at the door and it was answered by a liveried butler who looked her up and down severely.

"I am here to see Madame deChagny." She said simply.

"Is Madame expecting you?" the butler said suspiciously, surveying her plain black coat and bonnet and scuffed, worn boots.

"Yes she is." Jane replied. "I answered her advertisement seeking a governess."

"Ah yes." The butler said, looking slightly less severe. "Come in Miss...?"

"Cravon. Jane Cravon."

"Very well Miss Cravon." He replied, mispronouncing her name. Come inside and wait and I will inform Madame that you are here."

He lead her into a comfortable, though not overly large, drawing room, then left her to wait, closing the door behind him.

It opened again in a few minutes to reveal a charming young woman whom, Jane thought, could not be too many years older than herself. She had long, golden hair which was at present gathered into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. She had wide, sapphire-blue eyes and skin as fair as that of a porcelain doll, with tiny lips like a rosebud. In short, she was beautiful; and she gave off an air of innocence. Jane could not help having the impression that, all though the woman appeared physically to be a few years her senior, she was nevertheless looking at one who was still a girl.

"Greetings Miss Cravon." The lady said in French, in a sweet, musical voice.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Madame deChagny." Jane replied, also in French. She dropped a shallow curtsey which made the lady of the house blush and look slightly uncomfortable.

"Miss Cravon, I want to thank you so much for taking this position." The lady said. "It has been so dreadfully difficult to find a governess for Joseph-Philippe. All those whom we tried from around here were either too severe, or they could not speak French, or they could not teach music. That is why we advertised so far afield."

"Well Ma'am, I needed the position and was happy to take it. I'm certain that I shall enjoy working with my pupil and that I can instruct him in all those subjects over which you expressed concern."

"Excellent!" the lady cried, looking very pleased. "And please." She added "Call me Christine."

Jane was startled. "Very well Ma'am, if you wish." She said uncertainly.

"Oh please." Christine replied. "To tell the truth, I'm dreadfully uncomfortable with my title; and I shan't mind at all being able to forget it now and then."

Jane smiled. If the Vicompt was anything as charming and kind as his wife, she was going to find this position most congenial.

She did find it congenial. Over the next several weeks, Jane settled into the deChagny household and into a pleasant routine with her pupil. She taught her charge in the mornings and early afternoons, and then had the later afternoons and evenings to herself. Most of her interaction, other than that with the other servants, was with Christine. But she did meet the master of the house, Raoul the Vicompte deChagny, briefly every now and then. Like his wife, he gave the impression of youthful naivety and he was just as kind and genial.

Her pupil was a good lad, a healthy boy of about nine. He had his father's features, with sandy-blond hair, and his mother's blue eyes and porcelain-fair skin. He was an obedient and diligent pupil who seemed to enjoy his studies, though he showed no outstanding gift for any particular subject. Like most lads of his age, he had developed a fascination with soldiering. Thus, his favourite subject was history when it pertained to great battles. He also possessed a sweet, angelic little treble voice which he had apparently, according to the Vicompt, inherited from his mother, though Jane never heard her voice. The lad enjoyed music well enough and often sang and played the piano to please Jane or his mother, and he was chief soloist in the Cathedral choir where they went to mass. But he did not have any great passion for it.

Sometimes, in the evenings, Christine would ask Jane to join her for tea and conversation after dinner. Jane found that she could converse easily with the Vicomptess and often completely forgot that she was speaking to her employer and social superior, for Christine had a very open and friendly manner. They talked at first of Joseph-Phillip's progress. But, when Christine learned that Jane had a great love of art, music and the beauty of field and wood, these became their preferred subjects of conversation. Though neither spoke of the details of their past, they greatly enjoyed hearing of the beauty of the places that each one had seen. Jane described to Christine the wild, isolated beauty of the remote county in the north of England where she had gone to school. Christine told Jane of the majesty of the sea at Brittany and in her native Sweden and of the loveliness of the rolling fields and picturesque little villages.

They found that their tastes in art and music differed greatly, though each could appreciate the tastes of the other. Christine's tastes tended towards the light and charming: Mozart and Gounod. She enjoyed paintings of beautiful landscapes full of sunlight and flowers. She was not a great reader. Jane found her impression of her mistress as still being very much a girl and rather naive to be correct. but she liked Christine very much. Her own tastes however tended more towards that which was haunted, brooding and somewhat dark: Schumann and Berlioz. She would be well drawn to anything in a haunting minor key. She enjoyed the light landscapes well enough. But she also loved images of storm-lashed forests and wild, desolate mountain crags. She also had a great love for literature; for poetry; for the stories of great lovers or of great struggles for freedom.

Christine found the young governess's tastes rather dark. She found that there was something of the dark about Jane; not sinister, but melancholy. Though she could not be more than twenty-two at most, Jane seemed somehow older than her years. But Christine liked her very much and the two became great friends.

There was a music room in the house for, though many of the women the Vicomptess had tested out as governesses before had said that it was unsuitable for a boy, it was Christine's particular wish that her son should learn music, in honour of his grandfather on her side so she had told Jane. So this large, sunny room was set up with a delightful grand piano for his lessons; and here, Jane taught Joseph-Phillip to play and to read the musical alphabet, which he already knew somewhat from the Cathedral choir. It was a magnificent instrument and Jane looked upon it with love.

One evening, a few months since Jane had come to the house, Christine asked the younger woman if they might take tea in the music room that evening. She had overheard Joseph-Phillip's music lessons on a number of occasions and it was her great wish that Jane should play for her as she had not been around some one who could play well in years. Though she was, by her husband's account, a marvellous singer, neither she nor the Vicompte could play the piano at all. Jane had often wished to play the instrument apart from when she was teaching Joseph-Philippe, but had not done so because she had not her master's or mistress's permission. But she had longed to.

After they had had their tea, then, Jane sat down at the magnificent piano and began to play. She began with Mozart, a nice, cheerful piece. Christine applauded and said that she played very well and asked her to continue. She played something by Hayden; and then, when Christine asked her to continue again, she turned to something more to her own taste. She played Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, very slowly, letting its beautiful and haunting lines ring and savouring their resonances. This was followed by a piece by Schumann.

During the first two pieces, it had seemed to Christine that, though Jane played well and seemed to enjoy it, she was not playing fully. But, as she played these last two pieces, with their haunting, sad, dark melodies, the Vicomptess saw that now Jane was truly in her element. So much so that, it seemed to Christine, she seemed to have forgotten the room around her and all in it. She seemed to darken. A shadow seemed to wrap around her as though she had just put on a great black cloak; and the room seemed to become full of shadows too. Christine found herself being reminded forcibly of Erik.

"Did you learn that at the school you went to?" the Vicomptess asked.

Jane turned around on the piano bench. "The first two, yes. I did." She replied. "But the others I taught myself. At school, they didn't think that music so dark and brooding was suitable for young ladies." She pulled a face. It was the first time she had spoken of her years at school.

Christine chuckled. She could well imagine her own governesses and Madame Valerius saying the same. "Do you sing?" she asked Jane.

"A little." Jane answered.

"Would you sing something?"

Jane almost laughed at the diminutiveness of the request coming from her mistress who had every right to command her. "Certainly." She replied. "Anything in particular you would like?"

Christine thought for a moment. "You choose." She said at last.

She found herself being quite astonished that Jane had said that she sang but a little. Moreover, it was apparent that the younger woman had not simply been being modest by convention but had meant it quite seriously. In fact, she had a fine voice; a dark voice, but pure. It was obvious that she had had no formal training. But even without it, her voice was beautiful. When her song finished, Christine told her so.

Jane blushed. "Thank you." She said with slight awkwardness. "At school they only taught us to sing enough to get through a hymn book without thoroughly butchering the hymns."

"This room is always left unlocked save for at night." Christine began. "You are welcome to come in here and play any time you please."

Jane's head snapped up in astonishment.

"Certainly" Christine said. "It will be so nice to have the house filled with music again."

"Thank you." Jane breathed in rapture.

From that evening on, once Jane had finished her teaching for the day, she would be found in the music room at the piano. She reacquainted herself with pieces that she had learned before but not had an opportunity of practicing since the last time she had been near a piano, which had been at school. And even then, she had only been able to play these, her favourite pieces when the teachers, and those students who would report her for playing music inappropriate for Christian young ladies, were out. And those occasions had been very rare. But during those blessed moments, she had been able to loose herself in music for hours at a stretch, though she always had to pull herself out of her rapture every so often to make certain that she would not be found out. Now, though, she was at liberty to play as much as she pleased, and she did. And the mistress of the house had no objections to the pieces she played. Often, in fact, Christine would come in silently and listen. She also, occasionally, gave Jane a little present of some extra money so that she could add new books of pieces to her meagre collection; or the Vicomptess would give her old music of her own.

Whenever she listened to Jane play, Christine again found herself reminded forcibly of Erik. Partly, it was due to the pieces which Jane played, the ones that most appealed to the young governess. They were the same dark, sad, pieces filled with brooding melancholy that had always been Erik's favourite language. But it was also that there was something in her when she played, or sang these sort of pieces; that quality of shadow; that aura of sadness; the way she would become completely absorbed in the music.

One evening at teatime, this time about a year since Jane's arrival with the Vicompte and Vicomptess, Christine suddenly became very serious.

"Jane," she began "have you ever considered going somewhere to study music?"

Jane looked up in surprise. "No." she said "I have not."

It was Christine's turn to be astonished. "You have not? Why on earth not? You have a great talent." Again, Jane looked surprised and slightly embarrassed. "Has no one ever told you so?"

"No." Jane replied. "It was always something I did purely for my own pleasure. I had never considered the possibility of pursuing it beyond that."

"Would you like to do so if you had the opportunity?" Christine asked.

"Yes." Jane answered without hesitation. "I would like that very much. I had simply never thought that there would be an opportunity."

"I cannot make you any promises just yet." Christine said "But I should like to see what I might be able to do for you. You have a gift and it would be a pity to see it hidden away unknown. Heavens!" she exclaimed and then laughed. "If I must endure having a title, I might as well use it to do some good for somebody. It's about all it's good for."

Jane laughed too. "Thank you." She said seriously. "You're very kind."

"Think nothing of it." Christine replied equally as seriously. "As I said. You have a great talent. I may not know much about music but I know enough to recognize a great gift when I hear it. Believe me, it is my pleasure; a chance to pass on to some one else" she continued in reverie "the help that was once given to me."

That evening, Christine went up to her room and sat down in her favourite armchair by the window to think. It was a big, squashy, overstuffed wing chair that she seemed to sink into when she sat in it. It was very relaxing and it helped her think. She looked at the starry night sky outside over the gardens.

She would be loathed to loose Jane as a governess. Jane was the first governess Joseph-Phillip had had who had really worked out. In addition, she and Christine had become good friends in the past year and Christine had been in sore need of a pleasant friend. She thought she would go mad if her sole society were to consist of the society women who were her and Raoul's neighbours. Yet, Jane must study music. She had too great a talent to spend all her life as a servant to rich people, the vast majority of whom would never appreciate her gift. No, there seemed to be no help for it. Joseph-Phillip would have to go to school and Jane would have to find a good institution and go there to study music properly. But Christine would miss her. She wished there was some way she could retain Jane and still have her be able to study.


	3. Embers

Chapter Two

Embers

Also ten years later.

Erik walked the banks of the lake as he opened Christine's latest letter. They had kept correspondence after she had left and, ironically, had become closer friends now than they had been during all the time when he had taught her and kept her with him beneath the opera house. She understood him now in a way that she had not been able to before. She understood why he had acted as he had and, miraculously, she had forgiven him. In her letters, she had spared him most of the details of her happiness with Raoul and he appreciated her tact. But he had insisted upon knowing enough to be assured that his sacrifice had been worth it. He had let her go because he had accepted at last that she did not love him. He had accepted at last that she loved Raoul and that she would not be happy with him under the opera. And he wanted her to be happy. Knowing from her letters that she was happy, that he had, for one of the few times in his life, done the right thing, had been Erik's one source of consolation during some of his darkest hours after they had parted.

It had taken years for the pain to die down, for him not to feel as though his heart were being wrent in two every time he thought of her. It had taken years to be able to look back upon their brief time together, if such it could be called, without agony. But eventually, he had been able to manage it. He had not thought it possible. But slowly, with time, it had come to pass. Their mutual understanding and forgiveness, and the fact that they had been able to salvage a friendship out of the disaster of their acquaintance, had helped. It had helped Erik come to peace with how things had happened. But there was still the ever-present void of loneliness. Having known human companionship once, briefly, he felt its absence far more acutely now than he had before he'd ever known it. Of course he tried not to dwell upon the fact. But he felt it nonetheless, like a constant heavy void in his heart, and he was certain now that love from a woman was something he would never know. His deformity was too much of an obstacle; even for he himself to bear, let alone for a woman.

He took Christine's letter out of its envelope and began to read it. It told him that she had at last found a good governess for her son after an enormous amount of trial and error. She had told him , in previous letters, about her erstwhile efforts to obtain a proper educator for Joseph-Phillip. Apparently, however, this one was working out very well. She was a good teacher and she and Christine had become good friends. "Good." Erik thought. Christine needed a good friend. Her husband was wonderful, but Erik knew she needed another woman to confide in who would understand the things important to women. Apparently, this new governess, Jane, was also a very gifted musician who had, by in large, taught herself.

Her letter ended by saying that she and her family would soon be moving back to Paris. Other than surprise that Raoul had consented to such a relocation knowing that he, Erik, was still alive, Erik was surprised at how the news did not affect him. Years ago, such news would have sent his heart into wild agonies of passion and desperate hope. Now, he was simply glad that they had rebuilt sufficient trust over the years of their correspondence for Christine to feel safe in letting him know such information. The conclusion of her letter also said that Jane had been persuaded to audition for the Paris Conservatoire.


	4. A Stone Is Thrown Into The Water

Chapter Three

A Stone is Thrown Into the Water

It had actually been Raoul himself who had brought Christine the answer to her wish that Jane should both stay with the Chagny family and be able to study music. He had dropped it into her lap at breakfast the very morning after her conversation with Jane and her subsequent ponderings on the subject.

Christine had just come down for breakfast as Raoul was finishing his coffee. He let her have a good bit of her breakfast before looking up from his perusal of the Times and saying "Dear, how would you feel about moving back to Paris?".

"Paris?" Christine had said, looking up in surprise. In all the years they had been married, the subject had never before come up. "Why?" she asked, though with no sign of displeasure. Raoul put down his coffee cup.

"A business opportunity has come up and it's a good one. I think it could be very profitable in the long term. But it would mean moving back to Paris to manage it in person while it gets itself going. As I say. I think it could be quite profitable. But it will require some intensive work to get it started; six months at the very least."

Christine smiled. When she had first been rediscovered by Raoul ten years ago, she would never have imagined the young, handsome, rather impetuous vicompt deChagny as a businessman. Yet, it had happened. And therein, her husband had discovered his true passion, thanks in large part to the circumstances surrounding their marriage.

Despite the suddenness of the death of Raoul's elder brother Philippe on the same night when he and Christine had fled from Paris in secret, the elder Chagny had had the foresight, if one could call it that, to make a new will, disinheriting Raoul from the title of Compt deChagny and any estates beyond those he already possessed as vicompt, in the event that Raoul insisted upon marrying an opera singer. No one knew why Philippe had done this. Perhaps he had thought that Raoul truly had gone mad, and feared harm when once again confronting his younger brother about his wild engagement. Or perhaps he had come to believe Raoul's tales of his fantastic rival. Whatever the reason, the result had been that Raoul had been forced to venture into business in order to ensure the maintenance of the comfort to which he and Christine had become accustomed. The income from his own holdings would not have been enough and would eventually have dwindled, and he no longer had his naval career, as he had deserted the expedition in which he was supposed to take part in order to flee with Christine.

Raoul had gone into business with an Englishman they had met in Stockholm, where they had first gone after leaving Paris. The little Englishman had owned a shipping firm which was floundering. But with the help of Raoul's money and surprising aptitude for commerce, the little firm had grown into a force to be reckoned with. The money that Raoul had invested to help the firm get back on its feet had been all that Raoul had had, that of the Chagny estate which he owned as vicompt. Fortunately, the investment had more than paid off. Consequently, they had been able to move to an estate on the outskirts of London.

The truth was that, in the years since they had moved into that little estate, Christine had missed Paris from time to time. Certainly Sweden had been peaceful and safe and had held dear memories of her childhood. And England was beautiful. But neither Stockholm nor London had anything like the artistic life to which she had grown accustomed in Paris and the English were so reserved. They were also the most pronounced snobs she had ever known. In Paris, though intermarriage was rare, men in trade, aristocrats and artists of both sexes had mingled freely in the foyer of the ballet at the Opera as well as at balls and parties. But the English insisted upon maintaining a fast boundary between their aristocracy and, well, everyone else, whether they owned a flowerstand or a goldmine; or, in the case of herself and Raoul, a large and prosperous shipping firm. Consequently, she and Raoul hovered uneasily upon the edge of London society, partially and grudgingly accepted because of Raoul's title and wealth. And because they did not know either that his beautiful wife had been an opera singer or of the scandal which had driven them from Paris, something to which they were both careful never to refer. But they were mainly largely kept at arm's length because Raoul was in business rather than living solely on income from family holdings. The result was that the Chagny family were somewhat isolated and Christine did find it a trifle lonely on occasion, which was why she was so grateful for Jane's presence in the house. She certainly had not managed to make any friends among the fashion and status conscious society women she met when they went to parties. acquaintances, yes. But no one whom she really trusted; whom she could talk openly with.

For this reason, over the years, the thought of returning to Paris had occurred to her on more than one occasion. But Christine had never actually raised the subject and neither had Raoul until now. True, they both new that they would find it easier socially. But Paris had so many memories, painful memories for both of them, for all of them. Christine knew that their returning to Paris too soon would be excruciating for Erik, and for Raoul as well though for different reasons. But now that Raoul had brought up the subject, Christine sensed that the time was right to return. She sensed from Erik's letters that he would be able to receive her now as a friend, without it causing him the kind of agony that it once would have. Raoul too had obviously healed enough to be able to contemplate the idea without pain, for she saw none in his face. As for Christine herself, certainly the memories were still painful. They always would be. There was no way they could ever not be. What had happened had been a tragedy. But she had also long since made peace with the past. It could not be changed. Even if it could, she knew that the only difference would be that she would act with more kindness, discretion and compassion. But ultimately, her feelings and therefore her choice would still be the same. Erik understood that and he had long since forgiven her, which had greatly helped her make peace with all that had happened and with herself. She also, now, saw another possibility in returning to Paris, one that was an answer sent from heaven to her recent dilemma.

Raoul watched his wife's face closely as she reflected while finishing her tea. She reflected thus for several minutes once he had finished explaining his reason for suggesting that they might return to Paris. He knew that she was contemplating the reasons why, hitherto, they had not considered such a move and whether or not the time was yet right, or ever would be, to do so. She looked thoughtful, but not distressed by the suggestion. He was relieved to see that the memories which Paris held were no longer so painful or frightening that she could not even consider such an action. Finally, Christine put down her now empty teacup and looked up at him.

"I should not mind moving back to Paris. Believe it or not, in spite of everything, I've missed Paris sometimes." Raoul looked surprised.

"I've missed the musical life" Christine continued " and the fact that the French are so much less reserved than these English, so much less afraid of former singers." Raoul nodded in understanding.

"I shall ask Jane" Christine went on "if she would be willing to come with us."

"Jane?" Raoul asked.

"Yes. I do very much hope she will be willing to come with us. She has been a good teacher to Joseph-Philippe and a good friend to me. I should miss her greatly if she had to be left behind. And besides." Christine now smiled brightly "She must attend the Conservatoire."

"What?" Raoul asked, not expecting that one at all.

"Yes. You haven't heard her play or better yet sing; but she has a great gift. It would be a crime to see her waste away as a governess all her life and never have a chance to display that gift to the world."

"Christine my dear," Raoul interrupted "We most certainly are not paying for her to attend the Conservatoire."

"Of course not you silly goose!" Christine retorted, laughing at how daft her husband could be some times. "Don't you recall that the Conservatoire has scholarships for students with great talent who cannot afford to pay?"

Raoul had forgotten about that.

"I'm absolutely certain that Jane would qualify for one. If I did, then she most certainly will." Christine went on. "Then, if she would be willing, she can stay with us while she studies."

Raoul looked dubious. "For free?"

"Oh! Raoul!" Christine exclaimed, half angry, half pleading. "Please allow it? It will be so much easier for her to study and do really well if she does not have to work as well. She will be required to put in hours of practice and, if I know her, she will want to. And if she has to work as well she will be exhausted in no time at all, and then she won't do well. Surely we can afford it? She eats like a bird!"

"Alright." Raoul said, softening at his wife's logic, pleading and humour. He had always found it nearly impossible to refuse her anything when confronted with her beautiful smile.

"Oh! Thank you Raoul!" Christine exclaimed, going around the table and throwing her arms around her husband's neck. "It will mean a great deal to me and to Jane too."

"Then," Raoul asked, slightly bemused at all of this, "shall I tell the fellow in Paris that I am interested in taking up this opportunity?"

Christine reflected for a moment. She then answered in the affirmative. She had been momentarily worried that Jane would not be willing to come. But she felt reasonably certain that she would. She had seen Jane's eyes light up at the thought of seriously being able to study music and she felt certain that the young governess would not be able to resist such a chance.

She broached the subject of the impending move with Jane that evening over late tea, and was surprised at how eager the younger woman was to accept her offer to accompany the family.

"I've read a great deal about Paris and I've always wanted to see it for myself." The younger woman said. "It sounds so beautiful."

Christine smiled. "It is." She replied. "Do you think you will miss England?" she asked.

"No, I think not." Jane answered. "Perhaps I shall miss it's natural beauties; but..." she trailed off.

"Will you not miss your family and friends?"

Jane smiled ruefully. "I haven't any." She replied. "I parted company with my Uncle many years ago and I have no other family or friends living."

"Oh!" Christine exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. Do forgive me."

"For what?" Jane asked. "It is a simple truth; and it means that I have no encumbrance upon me which would hamper my coming with you to Paris. I'm very grateful to your husband too for permitting me to remain with you. You, the Master and dear Joseph-Philippe are the most amicable people I have yet known and you I would miss were I not able to go with you."

Christine smiled again. "I'm glad to hear it. I should have missed you as well. I regard you not only as a governess but as a friend." Jane blushed. "I can speak freely with you in a way which I have not been able to with any other since last I was in Paris myself. But you shall not stay on as governess." Christine added, boldly coming around to her true purpose at last.

Jane looked up in surprise. "But I thought..."

"Oh you shall come to Paris with us if you wish, don't be alarmed." Christine returned quickly, quelling Jane's sudden alarm. "But not as our governess, as our guest."

"What?" Jane asked in astonishment.

"Yes." Christine answered. "You shall be our guest because you must attend the Conservatoire. I have absolutely no doubt that you would be accepted."

This time, Jane looked up in shock, though Christine could see the light of longing in her eyes beneath the shock. "But," the young governess exclaimed, "I could not possibly... I've had but little proper training and I certainly could never pay the tuition for such an institution."

"You don't have to." Christine answered. "They have scholarships for such students as yourself and many of their students come with varying amounts of prior training. All you need do is pass the audition, which I have no doubt you will be easily able to do, probably with honours."

Jane was silent for a time. "Do you truly believe I would be able to do it?" she asked at last.

"Yes." Christine replied simply. Jane knew that the vicomptess was not given to empty flattery. "Will you at least audition?" Christine asked.

"Yes." Jane replied, excited at the prospect.


	5. On the Path

A/N

A new chapter at long last! Again I want to thank everyone who reviewed the first bunch of chapters back when I first posted them, and to urge you guys to go back and re-read them if you haven't already done so. They've been edited and reworked. After much consideration, I've taken into account some of the plot and grammar suggestions made by my reviewers, and also hopefully fixed some of the formatting issues so that it will be easier to read now. Do let me know! I've also attempted to answer some of the questions that people had regarding Christine's correspondence with Erik and his seeming ease of letting her go.

This chapter is transitional, but necessary. The plot will really start to get moving in the next chapter, which I hope to have posted by New Year's. And now, on with the story.

Disclaimer

Borrow Jane if you like, as she's my own creation and I don't believe in intellectual property. All the other characters though, the ones you recognize, belong to Gaston LeRoux and ALW. I don't own 'em, and I'm not making any money from this story. So call off the Jazz police!

Chapter 4

On the Path

By early Spring, the chagny family had moved to Paris. They had bought a modest house, or rather one which was modest by the standards of the aristocracy, in a little street in the heart of the city not far from the Opera. They settled in easily and, as Christine had suspected she might, Jane took to Paris as though she had returned from a lengthy odesy to her long-lost home. as Christine showed her the cultural life of the capital of Europe, the young governess made no effort to mask her awe at the beauty of the city, or at its sheer size. But wherever they went, to Christine's consternation, Jane insisted upon dressing so severely, so austerely in unrelieved black muslin, that she stood out markedly among the brightly and fashionably attired Parisians by whom they were surrounded. The younger woman seemed however to accept the stares of those around them without protest.

They attended concerts of the symphony orchestras, the like of which Jane had never seen or heard before. These included the performances of new works by a young man just making his name at the Tsar's court in Russia. The orchestras performed his symphonies, as well as concert arrangements of his ballet scores. And these ran from joyful and child-like to as dark and melancholy as one could get. Jane fell in love with them, and asked Christine where she might find a good music store where she might buy piano reductions of this wonderful music. Consequently, Christine showed her several shops which she herself had frequented during her days at the opera and Jane bought all of the music of this new young Russian's that she could find. She bought a great deal of other music as well and, in the evenings at the deChagny house, she could often be heard in the music room until quite late.

Christine also took Jane to the art-galleries where the young governess gazed with delight at the works of Turner, Delacroix, Goya and Degas, which, hitherto, she had seen only prints of in London bookshops. Those prints, Jane thought, certainly did not do justice to the originals. She also found delight in the works of newer artists, such as the Dutchman Van Gogh, whose style she found fascinating.

As with music, Jane gravitated towards those paintings which depicted darkness, storm, battle or great emotion. But she also accompanied Christine to view the paintings of fields and flowers that the Vicomptess so enjoyed.

Afterwards, the two took luncheon at a little cafe not far from the Theatre Lirique where, more than two decades ago, Faust had had its premier before moving to the Palais Garnier. Christine was thoroughly pleased to hear how much her young friend was enjoying the city.

"I suspected you would." The young Vicomptess told Jane as they ate lunch and sipped tea.

"Well then you were very much correct." Jane replied, smiling broadly. "I had no idea that there could be so much artistic life in one place, or so much beauty." She laughed. "Or so many people!"

Christine too was enjoying being back in Paris. As she had suspected she would, she found it far easier to converse with the French than with the English, with no one assessing her rank in society before even deigning to speak to her. She even, occasionally, would run into an oldster who remembered her face from her days at the opera, though it had been a decade ago. She also found it comforting no longer to be fleeing and trying to hide from the memories which the city held. Of course Raoul still hid from them even though he too was back in Paris. But then, it had been different for him and Christine did not know if he would ever truly understand. There were still so many things which she herself did not understand, even though so much had become clearer to her since those days.

"Have you applied to the Conservatoire for an audition yet?" the Vicomptess asked Jane.

"Yes." The younger woman answered in a lowered voice which betrayed her nervousness. "My application arrived yesterday, and I immediately filled it out and posted it back to them."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Christine excitedly. "Have you given thought yet to what you will sing?"

"I have several ideas," Jane replied, "but I haven't made a definite decision yet. I'm auditioning on piano as well, so I'm also looking to choose a suitable piece to play."

"Wonderful! Oh I'm so glad!" Christine cried joyfully. "Perhaps you might play something by that Russian chap whose work you like so much." She suggested.

"Yes." Jane replied after a thoughtful pause. "Yes, I may well do that. He's written a Barcarolle for piano which is particularly beautiful. It may very well do."

It took a full fortnight for Jane's letter of reply from the Conservatoire to arrive, telling her whether or not she had been granted an audition. Her outward calm during those days amazed Christine, who knew that she herself would have been a nervous wreck. It wasn't that the young governess wasn't nervous. She was, and she betrayed it every now and then in her face or her movements. But generally, she was incredibly successful at keeping her apprehension strictly concealed behind a constant mask of indifference. Christine judged that Jane must have resolve and self-control of iron. Joseph-Philippe never suspected anything of being different as she continued to teach him until it was known whether or not she would soon be otherwise occupied.

When the letter finally did arrive, Christine could barely contain her excitement as she brought it to Jane in the room where she gave Joseph-Philippe his lessons.

"I pray you'll forgive me the interruption," the Vicomptess said as she opened the door and held up the envelope, "but I thought you'd want to know right away." She said to Jane, who came over and claimed it from her with extraordinary calmness. Then, to Christine's utter astonishment, she put it in the drawer of the bureau.

"I shall look at it later," Jane said with a calm smile, "once we have finished today's lesson." To which Joseph-Philippe looked disappointed as his brief hopes of finishing early were dashed.

"Well?" Christine asked, as eagerly as a child on Christmas morning, when Jane later joined her in the withdrawing room.

Jane sat down calmly in the chair opposite her, and slit open the envelope with a silver letter-opener. She read the letter, almost without altering her expression. The only indication that it held something momentous was to be found in her barely visible increase in tension. But Christine could not tell if it was due to delight or dismay. The corners of Jane's mouth turned up into a slight, almost smirking smile however as she handed the letter across to the Vicomptess. When Christine finished reading it, she looked across at Jane and smiled broadly.

"You've been granted an audition!" Christine exclaimed excitedly. "Oh Jane that's so wonderful!"

"I still have to pass it and win a scholarship." Jane replied with calm pragmatism.

Yes," Christine replied "but if you do not succeed in doing so, then I shall be forced to think that the judges must be tone-deaf."

Jane chuckled slightly at the Vicomptess's sweet, good-natured encouragement. Frankly, she prayed fervently that the woman was right.

"Christine," Jane began uncertainly "you once performed at the opera I believe you said. Did you not?"

"Yes." Christine replied hesitantly, wondering where this was going.

"Then you've been through these auditions yourself?" the young governess continued.

"Indeed." Christine agreed relieved, for she thought she had an idea what Jane was about to ask.

"If this is terribly presumptuous then I pray you'll please forgive me." Jane began. "But would you perhaps be able to help me prepare? Help me sing properly, and comport myself as I should before the judges?"

"I would be glad and honoured to!" Christine exclaimed excitedly. "Though if I may say so, I think you hardly need it. But if it would greatly reassure you, then I shall gladly do so."

"Thank you." Jane said, visibly relaxing.

So, for the next fortnight, Christine worked with Jane in the evenings after tea, to prepare the younger woman for her upcoming audition. As the Vicomptess had suspected might be the case, Jane actually required very little preparation. It was the confidence which she lacked more than the skill or ability. The main issue was to accustom her to singing standing up, as hitherto she had always, of necessity, sat down to sing while accompanying herself. To that end, Christine called upon the gentleman who played the organ at the Cathedral where they went to mass, to come to the house and accompany their practices so that Jane might get used to singing standing up while some one else played. The Vicomptess also showed her some simple breathing exercises and vocal warm-ups, and was astonished at the improvements which even these little corrections made in the younger woman's voice. She was also struck yet again by how unaware Jane was of her great gift. Christine sorely wished that she could find a way to make Jane hear the gift she possessed, to inspire in her the confidence that she would need to realize her talent.

During that fortnight, Christine wrote to Erik once again. As usual, she concealed the letter to him inside an envelope addressed to Madame Giry and her dear daughter Meg, who had been one of Christine's few friends at the Opera. The envelope did actually contain letters to each of them as well as the letter to her former maestro. Madame would then post, or somehow convey, the Vicomptess never did know by what means, the extra letter to Erik. It was an awkward set-up, but it kept Raoul from knowing of her correspondence with the Phantom, which he certainly would never have permitted had he known about it. As it was, he had been very unhappy about her continued correspondence with the Girys, and had made her promise that she would discontinue that correspondence if it looked as though it were endangering their freedom. She hated to conceal anything from her husband. But neither could she simply cut ties with the man who had given her so much, and who so needed a friend. She could not simply forget that he had ever existed as Raoul could. But then, Raoul had not known him as she had. He had, unfortunately, only known Erik's worse side, his anger and vengeance, and he had been blinded by jealousy every bit as much as the Phantom himself had. Raoul had never known the man, as she had, only the monster. It had taken many years with no sign of Christine's former teacher for the Vicompt to eventually come to believe that they truly were free and safe, and to stop looking over their shoulders, fearing pursuit. But Christine had known all along. Erik had always been a man of his word. If he made a promise, for ill or for good, he kept it. She understood that he regarded it as a point of honour and dignity to keep his word, one of the proofs, the little rays of hope, which he held up to himself that he might not be the monster that even he himself believed he was.

She told him in her letter of Jane's upcoming audition and of their preparations. She told him of the improvements in the young governess's voice, and of her continuing lack of confidence and awareness of her gift. Once she had sealed the envelope addressed to the Girys and given it to her lady's maid to post, she went to her bedroom, locked the door for privacy and, as she always did, prayed for Erik. Again, she felt in her heart that her prayer had been heard. But this time, she also felt that it had been answered, though she did not yet know how.


	6. Auditions

A/N. Eeeeeek! Really sorry to all my readers out there that it's taken so long to get a new chapter up! Yikes! But A, I had no internet connection for the first half of 2007, and B, my muse kind of took an extended leave of absence on me. Anyway, here's a new chapter at long last, and it's got Erik in it! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed my previous chapters. It rocks to hear from you guys! I'm not even going to hazard a guess as to when I'll have more of this story up for you guys, because I'm still having bad writer's block on it. But hopefully it'll be a little sooner this time! Anyway, I hope you guys all had great holidays of whatever variety you celebrate, and happy 2008! And now, on with the story, and please R&R some more!

Chapter 5

Auditions

The day of Jane's audition was bright, sunny and clear. But Jane hardly noticed it as she walked slowly up the grand steps toward the massive front doors of the Opera, in whose auditorium the auditions were to be held. She was terrified. Christine had told her that she had great talent, but the young Vicomptess was the first ever to say so. Jane prayed that she was right, and that she would not embarrass either herself or her kind young Mistress. But more even than her doubts as to her abilities, Jane could not help feeling, as she beheld the grand and opulent building before her, that she had no right to be there. She knew that she did – she had the paper in her hand stating that she was to audition there this day. But the building was magnificent! It truly was a palace. And who was she? She felt the dread that a fallen woman might upon entering a church for the first time in many years. Her sense of being grossly out of place was further heightened, as she entered the grand foyer and made her way to the auditorium proper, by the sight of those who were to audition with her. They were all clearly the sons and daughters of her betters, and their glances let her know it as they passed. She lowered her eyes, and sought her seat as quietly as possible. She began taking steady, deep breaths to calm herself as Christine had taught her to do.

Meanwhile, above her in box 5 on the Grand Tier, Erik scanned the throng below with growing dismay. As he'd feared, they were the usual lot who always auditioned – the over-confident offspring of those who seemed to think that a centuries-old surname and a pile of wealth should automatically make them better at everything to which they set themselves, and that they should be treated accordingly. Normally he didn't even attend the sorry affairs because so many of these whelps would inevitably be admitted to the conservatoire, not withstanding their mediocre to minimal levels of talent, in order that their fathers would continue to make generous donations. He sighed. He understood all too well that the institution's need for the funding was genuine. The state, generous though it was, did not fund the school nearly well enough to provide the kind of training which ought to be found at the most prestigious school of music in France, and one of the most prestigious in Europe. Nevertheless, he wished devoutly that they could afford to be more selective.

He was, however, most interested to hear the audition of the young Englishwoman whom Christine had mentioned in her most recent letter. She had said that the girl had great talent, and Erik did not doubt her judgement. After all, he had taught her himself. He had taught her to know real musicianship, real passion, from the absurd posturing which all too often passed for it. He was particularly intrigued by the fact that, like Christine herself when he had begun her training, this young woman was apparently unaware of her own gift. He wondered how that was possible. In Christine's case, she had been so drained by grief that she had thought herself incapable of producing any more the wondrous talent which she had had while her Father lived. But that did not seem to be the case with this young governess. From what Christine had said, she was quite strong and independent.

He scanned the crowd, and tried to see if he could spot her among the crowd of candidates. To his chagrin, he did so almost immediately. Christine had not been exaggerating when she had said that the girl was plain. No, austere was a more accurate term, for her plainness was obviously deliberate. She wore a plain frock of black tapheta, with a high collar and long sleeves, and no ornamentation save for a little bit of black lace on the collar, sleeves and bodice. And her dark-brown hair was twisted into a severe bun at the nape of her neck. Her attire looked like that of some one in deep mourning, and Erik found himself wondering what her circumstances might be. He got the immediate sense though that this austerity expressed a deep-rooted sense of her place. But her grey eyes reflected a keen intelligence, and Erik found himself struck, as Christine must have been, with the sense that the young governess was capable of far greater things than she knew. Yes, he was most interested to hear her audition. They were beginning with the auditions for the instrumentalists, and Erik knew that Jane would be performing on the piano in this section. He was interested to hear her choice of piece. And when her turn came, he was not disappointed either.

Her choice of piece was quite unusual. Where the other hopefuls had chosen fast, obviously difficult, bravura pieces which showed off their speed, dexterity and co-ordination, she had chosen a piece in complete contrast. True, the middle of the piece was quick, and was indeed even wild and aggressive at its climax. So it did allow the adjudicators to see that she could handle that sort of playing. But that section was very short. The rest of the piece was dominated by a haunting, lyrical melody. She showed some nervousness as she played the brief introduction. But as soon as she began that melody, it was clear that the young governess had become completely absorbed in the music. She played it with her entire heart, soul and spirit. It was mournful – a requiem. He was not familiar with the piece, although in introducing it Jane had stated that it was a composition of that Russian whose music was all the rage. But it was beautiful. Erik had not been that moved by a performance in a very long time. Her performance drew applause, which seemed to surprise the young Englishwoman, and Erik found himself applauding enthusiastically along with the rest of the audience.

As for Jane herself, she had to fight hard not to tremble as she made her way down from the stage after finishing her piece. She had been grateful that the adjudicators had not stopped her in the middle of her piece, or even asked her not to perform at all. So she had been frankly shocked when the house had erupted into applause. She had heard the brilliant and difficult performances of the candidates who'd gone up before her, and she'd feared that her piece was too simple. But the judges had seemed pleased, even, dare she hope, impressed. She squashed that thought immediately. Of course they were not. Who was she to even think that she could impress the likes of these people? She had heard the sniggers as the adjudicator who called her up mispronounced her name, and she'd seen how the manner of the judges chilled as she made her way to the stage. She must not forget that these were her betters. If she were accepted, it would be upon their benevolence. Nothing more, and nothing less. Still, it had gone better than she'd feared it might, although her apprehension returned in full force as she listened to the spectacular performances which followed her own, and saw how beautiful and elegant were the people who gave them.

The vocal auditions were held the next afternoon, and Jane once again found herself having to force herself to take deep breaths to calm herself as she sat down in the grand auditorium. She had recounted the previous day's audition to Christine, and the young Vicomptess had apparently thought that it had gone very well. Jane was glad. She would never wish Christine to have cause to regret her kindness and generosity. Now she clutched the music which she would give to the accompanist as though it were a rosary and she in desperate prayer. She had never sung in front of an audience this large before. Indeed, she'd never sung in front of any audience before other than Christine and the organist who had accompanied her during practice. She took some encouragement from the fact that Christine herself had once sung at the opera and yet she believed that Jane's voice merited this chance. But the young governess could not help but feel as though she were committing a great sin of pride for which she would surely be punished. She fought to keep her hands from shaking as, when her name was called, and mispronounced again, she made her way to the stage and handed her music to the pianist. She prayed silently that, if she had the right to ask it, this audition might go as well as yesterday's had done.

Erik, meanwhile, found himself sagging with relief as the young Englishwoman mounted the stage. If her vocal audition was anything like her piano performance, and Christine had said in her letter that the young governess's talent as a singer easily equalled her talent as a pianist, then she would be a blessed relief from the hideous combination of arrogance and mediocrity to which he had been subjected hitherto. Like the instrumentalists of the previous day, these young people obviously thought a great deal more of their talents than they actually warranted. He frowned, and considered leaving as soon as Jane finished when he thought about the fact that he would be subjected to that odious combination again thereafter. Not all of these candidates were the same as the ones who had performed for the instrumental auditions though, so he decided to stay and endure the remaining performances in case there were further pleasant surprises. With that thought, he settled back to evaluate. And again, he found his expectations far exceeded.

As with her instrumental audition, the young governess had chosen a piece which stood out markedly from those of her fellow candidates. As she had done for her piano piece, rather than choosing a show-piece full of runs and ornamentation as had her competitors, she had selected a quiet and lyrical aria. It was a piece Erik knew well, although he had never thought that he liked it until now. She had chosen "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre A Ta Voie" from Sampson et Delilah by Biset. It was an aria for mezzo-soprano, and it suited the young Englishwoman's voice perfectly. Indeed, Erik realized that what he'd taken for his having formerly disliked the piece itself had in fact been his having disliked every rendition of it that he'd ever heard before now. Where most mezzos sang the piece in full voice, with that hideous, thick vibrato that sounded as though they had a warbling creature stuck in their throats, Jane held back. She sang the piece gently and lightly, like a whisper, crescendoing only as much as necessary to convey the heightened emotion of the refrain. And her voice was pure - dark and rich, with just enough vibrato to make it sound free and flexible but no more. It was like a breath of fresh air. And Erik realized as he listened that, although the young governess was obviously a mezzo, or perhaps even a contralto of rare quality, she could likely also sing well into a soprano's range, although she probably did not know it. He realized that that too had made her choice a wise one. Unlike many of her competitors, she had not selected a piece full of high notes that she was not solidly able to reach. He approved. But best of all, as she had done when she had played her piece for the instrumental auditions, she sang with complete conviction. She clearly knew the meaning of the text, and she sang as though she meant every word. Again, she had clearly been very nervous as she had begun the piece, but had quickly become completely absorbed, enraptured even, in the music and the text. And as had happened on the previous day, her performance, again to her apparent surprise, drew enthusiastic applause. Erik found himself fervently hoping that the young Englishwoman would be accepted, and almost wishing that there was something he could do to ensure it. But he did not have nearly the control over the conservatoire's administration that he'd once held over the opera-company proper. But he seriously considered trying it. The girl had talent – real talent – the kind of talent that he had not heard since Christine had left the opera. But he knew all too well how even talent such as that could be passed over if it's bearer lacked wealth and/or beauty. And unfortunately for her, Jane lacked both. From what Christine had said, she had no means of her own apart from what she earned as a governess. And though she was striking in her stern austerity and was obviously quick and intelligent, she was not conventionally beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, a lack reinforced by her obvious lack of confidence. He hoped that just for once the judges would have the sense to understand what they were being presented with.

Jane kept her eyes down and spoke to no one as she left the opera house. Again, the audition had gone better than she had had any right to hope. She'd once again been permitted to perform, and to complete her entire piece. She had yet again received applause, and even smiles from the judges. But she still knew that her competitors had given far more impressive performances, and were people of far more consequence. She would not allow herself to be proud until she knew whether or not she had been accepted.

The day was sunny and clear as it had been the day before as Jane made her way back to the deChagny house. As she walked, she felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It was done. Whatever happened now, it was done. Now all she had to do was wait. Christine was, as always, enthusiastic and encouraging. When Jane described the day's events to her, the young Vicomptess felt that this audition too had gone very well. Jane would wait and see. She would know soon enough.

It took another six weeks for the letter to finally arrive. And as before, the only indication which the young governess gave of what sort of news it contained was a widening of her keen grey eyes and a slight smile.

"Well?" Christine asked from across the low table where their afternoon tea was set out. "May I see? Truly I don't know how you can be so calm!" And it was true. It was all the young Vicomptess could do not to bounce out of her chair and rudely read the letter over Jane's shoulder.

Jane, however, passed the letter across the table to Christine in silence. Christine took it eagerly and read it, and as she did so she let out a squeal of delight that was almost unladylike.

"Oh Jane that's wonderful! You've been accepted, and with full scholarships!"

"I can scarcely believe it." Jane said in a calm that contained deep awe beneath the surface.


	7. Needs and Decisions

A/N Woohoo! I'm back with another chapter, and it's only been about a month! We're improving! Thankfully, my muse seems to be being nice to me again. I'm still not going to make any promises though as to when the next update will be, 'cause I don't want to jinx it!

Anyway, I want to thank all the people who left me such lovely reviews! Wow! blush And thanks also to the people who added me to their favourite authors and author alerts! That's so nice!

Anyhow, this is the last filler chapter. We get down to the actual plot in the next chapter, when, oops! I almost let a spoiler! You'll have to read the chapter to find out what I'm talking about.

Lastly, I should say, in addition to the usual disclaimer, that this chapter was written without any research into how the Paris Conservatoire operated in that era or its physical relationship to the Opera House. I simply wrote what needed to be the case to move the plot forward. So don't use me as a source for historical facts! Ok then, on with the chapter. And of course, please review! I may not always act on your suggestions, but they're always welcome and appreciated!

Chapter 6

Needs and Decisions

Jane began her studies at the conservatoire that September, and within the first week felt as though an avalanche had come down on top of her. She'd had no idea that there could be so much to study about music! And her lack of formal training proved to be a serious disadvantage. Thankfully, Christine had had the foresight to give Jane some preliminary training in the weeks between her acceptance and the start of classes, or she would have been completely at a loss! Music theory was particularly bad, and Jane often found herself working late into the evening in order to complete both the studies she was assigned to do and the extra study that she needed to do in order to familiarize herself with facts and concepts which she was expected to have learned long before coming to the National Academy. The work took its toll and was exhausting, but it was also rewarding.

There were a wide variety of subjects taught at the Conservatoire, some of which Jane was stronger in than others. German and Italian she excelled in, but then French had come easily to her as well when she had been taught it back at school in England. History came easily too, for Jane had always been fascinated with bygone eras. It was one of the subjects that required a good deal of extra work though, as, in addition to having to learn the names of various composers and when they had lived and died, she also had to learn the terms and concepts associated with the styles of their eras, and these were new and unfamiliar. Her piano and vocal classes were similar. She did well in them because of her years of practice. But nevertheless there were techniques and terminology taught with which she was unfamiliar, which she had to learn quickly in order not to fall behind. And theory was torture. First of all, it was the subject with which she had the least prior acquaintance, and therefore it was the one which required the most extra work. Not that Jane had ever minded hard work, especially when it would help her learn and progress. But it was tedious and exhausting. And the theory itself seemed so arbitrary, sometimes seeming to be only loosely related to the actual sounds being produced. And Harmony and Counterpoint were governed by such strict rules as to be baffling! Apparently these regulations were supposed to guide the student in the creation of music which was stately, elegant and orderly. But Jane found them stultifying.

Fortunately, Christine was wonderful. Having been through it herself, the young Vicomptess was delighted to take three evenings a week, as well as Sunday afternoons after Mass, to help Jane with her studies. And Jane found Christine to be as good a teacher as any she had at the Conservatoire. To which Christine merely smiled, and said that she herself had learned from the greatest teacher imaginable. She burst out laughing when Jane told her her feelings on Theory and Harmony, and told Jane that her own teacher had said something quite similar, although he had put it far more forcefully. Jane noticed that a look of sadness always came over Christine's face when she spoke of her teacher. She also noticed that the young Vicomptess never spoke of her teacher in front of her husband. But since her friend offered no further information, Jane did not ask as she did not wish to pry into that which was not her business.

On the evenings when she did not work with Christine, Jane would stay at the Opera House long after her classes had ended so that she could practice without fearing that she would disrupt the house once the Chagnys had retired for the night, for she would often practice until quite late. And here Raoul was wonderful, for he permitted her the use of the family's carriage so that she would not have to walk home alone on such evenings, which Jane greatly appreciated. The walk through the deserted opera-house from the practice rooms to the front entrance was spooky enough. Without the constant hum of people which filled the vast building during the day, every creek of the structure's settling, and every moan of wind through the rafters was audible. And the gaslights barely dispelled the immense darkness. It still felt awesome and strange to the young governess that she should have all this time to practice at her disposal, and free access to such beautiful instruments. But she accepted it gladly and with thanks, and lost herself in the music, enjoying the solitude of these nocturnal practice sessions at least until it came time to walk through to where the carriage waited. Oddly enough though, Jane often got the feeling on these evenings that she was being watched, although she could not see or hear anyone else anywhere in the section of the building where she was. It was a little eerie. But she forced herself to remember that it was merely an effect of the emptiness and gloom of the giant building, and that she should not allow herself to be frightened by tricks of the shadows.

The fact was, however, that Jane was indeed being watched. Erik found that he could not help it. It had been a long time since he'd heard talent like hers, and he could not help but be drawn to it like a moth to flame. And so he watched her progress with growing agitation. He watched, and approved of, the dedication with which she worked, and the extra effort and study which she was willing to put in in order to keep up. He was pleased to learn that Christine was helping her. Generosity had always been part of Christine's nature, and he was glad to see that that had not changed. Moreover, Jane needed it, and he was glad to see that the young Englishwoman did not have to carry her burden of extra work alone. He got the sense that, if it had come to it, she would have, and indeed that she was used to coping alone. But he was glad that she did not have to, and that she had a friend such as Christine who was willing and able to help. He frequently listened to Jane's nocturnal practice sessions as well. He relished the chance to hear her play or sing. The skill and technique with which she did both was magnificent, and was equalled only by the passion with which she rendered every note. He noted, though, that the passion with which she played was often one of grief, and that she had a preference for the dark, mournful, haunting pieces and songs which suited its expression.

Erik found himself increasingly frustrated on Jane's behalf, however, at the degree to which the young woman was being held back. And the worst part was that she appeared not even to be aware of it. Lacking confidence in her own talent, and unaware of its true proportions, she was shy to audition for recitals and other such student performances. And so she was frequently overshadowed by those with far less talent but far more self-assurance. And her fellow students' habit of reminding her on a regular basis that they were of higher consequence, coming from families of wealth and prominence while she obviously came from neither, was not helping. It wasn't in anything they ever said, at least in most cases. It was simply that they made no effort to hide or downplay their privilege, coming to classes expensively dressed and discussing parties, vacations, and powerful friends and relatives. And these students, the majority of the school, kept to their own, making no effort to include the less well-to-do students. Jane did, Erik observed with relief, make some acquaintances among those other students who were there on scholarships. But this obvious class hierarchy seemed to reinforce her conviction that she had not the right to be noticed. What concerned Erik the most, however, was Jane's progress as a singer, for it was in this area that she was being held back the most severely. The problem was that the vocal classes were given in groups, and so the exercises and techniques taught were generic. Students were expected either to have had private training before they came to the Conservatoire, or to provide it for themselves as a supplement to their studies. Thus, her voice was not getting the individual attention that it needed in order to achieve the heights of which Erik knew it to be capable. Not that she wasn't making progress. She was. The improvements in the young Englishwoman's voice since she had begun her studies were truly astounding, although her shyness prevented them from being heard and noticed. But they were not nearly as astounding as they could have been with the right training.

Jane was aware of this deficiency too. She enjoyed her vocal classes although not always all of the students in them, and she respected the knowledge of the professor who taught them. But the exercises that he gave her felt awkward, as though they didn't quite fit her throat properly. He had mentioned to her, once after class, that she would benefit greatly from private training, but the problem was that she simply could not afford it. The scholarship which she had been given only covered her tuition, and the salary which she received from the deChagnys for the music lessons which she still gave their son was not nearly enough. It only just covered her books and supplies. She was thankful that Christine had convinced her husband to allow Jane to continue to live with them, or she would have had to cover room and board as well. She could not possibly ask her kind benefactors to pay for private voice lessons on top of everything they'd already done for her. So she simply carried on as best she could.

Erik, of course, had discerned that the problem was a financial one, and it made him all but gnash his teeth. It was absurd that a talent such as Jane's should be held back by something as trivial as the requirement to pay for quality voice training, but there it was nonetheless. What irritated him even further, however, was that he knew of a solution to her problem, but it was one which he was very reluctant to take on – it was one which he had not taken on in ten years. But damn it, he knew of no other musician of sufficient quality who would take the young Englishwoman on without remuneration, at least, not without requiring an alternative form of payment of the kind which he knew that the young governess would never give nor would he wish her to. Christine had done well so far as a supplementary teacher, but she herself was, by her own admission, out of practice and not up to the task of properly training Jane's exquisite voice. So it was with a great deal of trepidation that Erik made his decision.

Christine read Erik's letter over three times before she was certain that she had read it correctly. She couldn't decide whether she was pleased, terrified, or both. Of course, Erik's training was exactly what Jane's voice needed to soar to stardom. And Erik, realizing that Christine would have precisely the concerns which she did, had made a point of stating that he was doing it purely for the sake of music and of Jane's extraordinary talent, and that he did not have any personal stake in the matter. This did succeed somewhat in reassuring Christine, as did the fact that he had chosen to reveal himself to Jane as a normal, if eccentric, musician offering to teach her, with no mysteries or deceptions involved this time. But what if things changed? What if Erik did develop feelings for Jane? And how would Jane react to Erik? He was indeed eccentric, even morbid, and his austerity could be off-putting. And how in the world was she going to contrive to have him over to the house to introduce him? It would of course have to be done while Raoul was away, perhaps on a Sunday when the servants had the day off so that they wouldn't gossip. For there was no question of not doing it. In spite of all her concerns, Christine felt a strong intuition that to introduce Jane to Erik was the right thing to do. The young governess needed the training more than she knew, and Erik needed a fighting chance at making a real friend. And if things did get complicated? Well, Christine decided that she would simply pray, and leave it in the hands of the Lord, and that she would be there as a friend to both Jane and Erik if they needed her.


End file.
